


The Island of Misfit Toys

by gagewhitney



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gagewhitney/pseuds/gagewhitney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She drops everything on the ground next to his tent. "I'd just rather be away from camp for a while, you know?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Island of Misfit Toys

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to be done days ago, but I got busy. Also, I somehow stumbled into a Supernatural homage while writing the end of this. It fits, so I decided to just go with it. ;-)

Daryl's not all that surprised to see her coming toward him.

Andrea's one of the few who have ignored his self-imposed exile for the most part, coming around often with extra plates of food and, most importantly, a decided lack of questions about his well-being. She just accepts his appreciative nod with a sympathetic smile and goes on her way. For that, he's been grateful.

The thing that surprises him is the fact that she seems to have all of her worldly possessions on her person.

"Hey!" she calls in greeting, trudging up the small hill under the weight of a folded tent and her few other belongings.

"Hey." He squints warily and gestures toward her gear. "What's all that?"

"My stuff," she says. "I'm moving."

He glances around at what used to be his personal campsite and quirks an eyebrow. "Here?"

"Yeah."

"Pretty far from the others," he reminds her.

"Location, location, location."

He watches her walk determinedly past him and asks, "Trouble in paradise?"

"You could say that," she huffs. She drops everything on the ground next to his tent. "I'd just rather be away from camp for a while, you know?"

"Yeah, I do know," he says pointedly.

She ignores him and cocks a hip, crossing her arms over her chest. "So is it all right with you if I set up here for a while?"

He stares her down, and she stares unrelentingly right back at him. "Fine," he sighs after a few moments. "You can stay. Just don't go bringing anyone else up here."

"Trust me, I won't," she says. She gestures toward her gear. "You want to help me set up my tent before the sky opens up on us?"

With a glance up at the darkening sky, he nods and rises to his feet, tossing down the bolt he'd been working on. As if on cue, there's a loud roll of thunder followed by a distant flash of lightning.

"Shit," she says. A few drops of water land on her face, and she raises her hand, waiting for more.

Daryl grunts. "Perfect timing." The wind starts blowing, and he jerks a thumb toward his tent. "All right, come on inside. We'll get you set up when it passes."

He holds the flap open while she picks everything up again and shuffles herself inside, then drops down onto his sleeping bag. She puts her stuff down and folds her legs to settle beside him.

"Thanks," she says, flashing him a small smile. Outside, the rain picks up, drumming steadily against the outside of the tent.

He nods. "You planning on telling me what the hell happened?"

She picks at a stray thread on his sleeping bag, frowning. "It's so stupid," she says. "I had a fight with Lori."

"Seems to be going around," he says with a smirk. "About what?"

She sighs. "It started because Beth decided she wanted to kill herself, and Lori took the knife away from her. I said she was wrong. That Beth needed to make that decision herself."

"Sounds familiar," he notes.

"Yeah. And then she started in about how I basically do nothing to contribute to the group." Andrea shakes her head. "She called me selfish. Lori Grimes, of all people, called me selfish."

With a snort, he says, "Join the club."

"She said I should be helping with the laundry and the cooking instead of sitting on top of the RV with my gun, working on my tan," she continues. "That I should let the men handle things. Oh, and then she called me insane."

His eyebrows jump to his hairline. "Damn. That bitch is dumber that she looks."

"Yeah." She finally cracks a real grin. "I kind of let her have it."

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

There's a loud crack of thunder outside. "Oh, yeah."

"The other day, she came up here demanding I go find her idiot husband and the doc," he recounts. "I told her to go fetch them herself and have a nice ride. How was I supposed to know she was going to run off and crash the damn car?"

She snorts. "Only car on the whole road and she flips it. Amazing."

"Yeah." He scratches at the back of his head. "I called her Olive Oyl, too."

"Really?" she asks, eyes sparkling. When he nods, she laughs loudly. "God, that's fantastic."

He chuckles at her amusement. "Thought it was fitting."

"Oh," she sighs, laughter still bubbling up out of her. "She just… She sucks. She sucks a lot."

"That'd explain why Rick and Shane keep fighting over her," he says quietly.

She bursts into laughter again. "Daryl Dixon! That is terrible," she cries. "And nicely done."

"Couldn't help myself," he says, breaking out into a rare grin.

They sit there, listening to the storm outside and Andrea's leftover giggles, before she speaks again. "Shit. I needed to laugh."

"Yeah." After a minute, he asks, "So what happened with the girl?"

Her face falls. "I let her get at the knife," she says. He doesn't say anything, so she continues. "She made an attempt, but her cuts were shallow. She didn't really want to do it, and I think she realizes that now."

He nods. "That's good, I guess." He's quiet for a beat, and then asks, "That also why you're here?"

"Yeah," she sighs. "Maggie banned me from the house."

Daryl shakes his head. "Ain't this turning into a regular Island of Misfit Toys up here?"

"You are not a misfit," she says immediately. "I know you think you are, but you're not." He turns his face to the ground, keeping silent, and she frowns. "No one blames you for anything, Daryl."

"Whatever," he says quietly.

"Don't let whatever Lori or anyone else said get into your head," she tells him. "You do a lot for this group, and you did a lot for Sophia. Do not let anyone convince you otherwise."

He nods. "You, too," he says, glancing up at her.

She bumps her shoulder with his and pats his arm companionably. "So, uh, what's on the menu at Chez Dixon?"

"Huh?" Outside, the rain and wind start to die down a bit.

"Well, I'm getting hungry, and I am not about to go down there looking for food prepared by Princess Lori," she says. "Not to mention that she and Maggie might team up to poison me."

Daryl smirks. "Hope you're not sick of squirrel, then."

She pulls a face. "Yum."

"That's some prime squirrel meat I've got out there, girl. Once the storm passes, you better get to cooking." When she raises an eyebrow, he teases, "You being what you are and all."

With faux indignation, she huffs, "Oh, really? You think Chez Dixon just found itself a chef, is that it?"

He shrugs. "Unless you'd rather do my laundry instead."

"In your dreams," she laughs. "Hey, how about you teach me to hunt, and then you can do the cooking?"

"Oh yeah, you're going to hunt," he scoffs. "Work on your tan, you mean."

She grins and rolls her eyes. "Jerk."

"Bitch."


End file.
